


Guilty Pleasures

by iloveyoudie



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 20:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/pseuds/iloveyoudie
Summary: Things said in the the heat of the moment were hardly promises.





	Guilty Pleasures

Max woke to cold hands along his sides and he gasped in the dark and squirmed instinctively away. 

"Morse," He realized with a grumble and turned to catch the icy hands in his own warm ones. Cold feet curled and slid down his calves and a shiver rocketed up his spine in response. 

" _Bloody Christ_ ," Max had been nice and warm and asleep until this rude and impromptu invasion. 

"Go back to sleep," Morse's voice was low and thick and Max could tell he'd been drinking. He was squirming out of his clothes as he wriggled his way under the duvet and the cold of a belt buckle ghosted along the bare skin of Max's hip. He hissed lightly in surprise and when Morse's trousers bunched under the bed clothes he helped kicked them away until they thumped softly to the floor. 

"What are you doing here?" Despite the annoyance in his voice Max was clutching those cold hands tight to his chest and slowly rubbing them between his own. When the last of Morse's clothes finally landed on the bedroom floor he pulled the thinner man tightly against his body to warm up. 

"You gave me a key," Morse said with a snort. He pressed close when the doctor gathered him in, pushing all the chilly lean lines of himself against Max's warmth and bulk. In the dark his face pressed into the doctor's collarbone and neck, nuzzling greedily, inhaling his smell and peppering his skin with slow kisses. 

"Yes, for-" Max was quickly getting distracted as cool lips slid along his sleep-warmed skin. Morse's nose was also cold, though warming quickly, and those gangly limbs tangled into his own, tucked and hooked in well learned angles. Whatever complaints Max had, whatever excuse he was going to concoct about the key, was abandoned when he felt the detective's arousal press eagerly into his hip. 

Morse rocked there, rutting gently into the seam of Max's stomach and thigh, and let out a satisfied sigh into the doctor's skin. 

"You smell like a bloody pub," Max growled crankily even as he tangled a hand in Morse's curls and urged him for a kiss. Morse sighed against Max's lips as if he were the cure, and in his inebriation he was sloppy and eager. When Max tugged his lip and sucked on it lightly, Morse's hips twitched against him again. 

"You taste like a pub too," Max murmured when they broke for breath. His hand traveled down to grip Morse's arse and pull him into a more mutual roll of the hips. 

"If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck..." It earned him a light slap on the behind and Morse let out a breathy laugh. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness in the bedroom and he finally lifted his head enough to look over his sleepy partner. 

Max was mussed and adorable in his annoyance and he squinted in the dark without his glasses. There were warm pink splash across his cheeks, one of which was lined with the crease of a pillowcase. 

"What's got into you?" Max, for all his gruffness, still smiled as he gripped and kneaded the spot he'd slapped. 

"A couple of pints. A double whiskey. Maybe another double whiskey. Something after that, I'm not sure.." Morse dipped his head, this time to find Max's ear and to trace it with his tongue before he tugged a lobe between his teeth. Max's head tilted and his neck craned. It was a known weak spot of his and his turn to sigh. 

Morse murmured with genuine affection, "I missed you." 

Max couldn't help the satisfying warmth that bloomed and spread through him. He knew he was much too taken with this man but no matter how he tried to shake it, he forever caved to him, "It'd be nice to know you missed me when you weren't three sheets to the wind." 

Morse spread his hand out over Max's chest and lifted his head again to see his face. He studied him in the dark and brushed his fingers through the smattering of doctor's chest hair, "I miss you all the time. I just need this much booze to break into your house in the middle of the night to ravage you." 

Max felt that affection trickle down to his extremities and he couldn't help a twitch of a smile, even though he was sure the same sentiments would not be extended in the sober light of day, "It's not breaking in if you have a key." 

"Which is the real reason why you gave me one," Morse grinned and leaned in for another kiss. It turned heated quickly, with clever tongues and roaming hands, and Max shifted himself to give more leverage as Morse's hips once more rocked against him. Despite the surprise awakening, Max was rising to the mood. 

This liaison between them wasn't new and was hardly consistent. It was what Max had convinced himself was _casual_. It was easy when they were at work, both professional and focused and with their usual snappy, yet effective rapport. After work, when they all gathered for drinks or Morse deigned to join a quiz night, it was a bit more difficult but Max would never be free to pursue who he wanted in this day and age. Such was his plight. It was when they were alone, when they spent lazy afternoons together like normal pairs did, when they indulged in some domestic evening that they both had free, when Morse turned into a creature of comfort and sensuality and turned that focused mind on Max and Max alone, that was when it felt decidedly less of a disposable arrangement. He should have turned him away a long time ago, the first time of many that he'd limped back after his most recent failed romance. He should not have caved to him time and time again. It was Morse's nature to be ever seeking something else, something head turning, to pursue some fantasy life that he could never have with someone like Max, but he always came back and Max always took him. 

The doctor enjoyed fine food, fine wine, engaging music, beautiful poetry, and this. 

Morse was a guilty pleasure and he enjoyed as much of him as he was allowed to have. 

Their embrace broke with Morse pressing lips along the doctor's jaw and down his neck. He scraped teeth along Max's collarbone then disappeared under the duvet to catch and tease a nipple between his teeth. 

Max's breath hitched with a light growl of Morse's name, a warning for being rough, and taking the cue, the other man abated and caught the other nipple between his fingers with a teasing pluck. There were open mouth kisses along the doctor's stomach, scrapes of teeth and infuriating suckled marks until Max gasped to the feel of his cock sliding between hungry, wet lips. 

He was in no position now to complain about Morse's greedy mood. Max buried a hand in the man's hair and spread himself to accommodate the narrow shoulders tucked between his knees. Morse hummed pleasantly around the length before taking him deeper and Max stuttered to feel his cock slide and press against the back of that tight throat. Morse held there, his tongue a swirling torture for a few moments, before he finally moved and withdrew, slow and tight, and with filthy satisfaction. Max could feel the man's lips curl into a smile against him and when his tongue flicked over the swollen tip, Max was caught off guard and gasped. Morse chuckled lasciviously and swallowed him down once more. 

Being asleep may have delayed the doctor's arousal but Morse had effortlessly remedied that. His mouth and hands pulled sound after sound from Max as he worked him to painful, rigid need. Morse's relish of the act made it all the more debauched and he hummed satisfied sounds as he began to bob, using his hand where his mouth failed him. Max hurtled quickly towards his end, bollocks tightening and thighs quivering as he gripped Morse's hair and tugged the familiar warning, but Morse only hummed pleasantly around his cock and took him deep one final time. The doctor cried out as he came hard into that devilish mouth, rolling waves of orgasm pulled from him until the last over-sensitized second. Morse was pleased with himself when he finally pulled away and Max, through the aftershocks of his orgasm, vaguely felt a kiss pressed to his spent member before the other man wiped his mouth on the sheets and slid back upwards to join him on the pillows. 

Max wasn't much use, his body still shuddering gently every few moments until his breathing steadied. Morse didn't seem daunted. He curled against Max's side, lightly straddled the man's thigh, and rubbed himself against him once more. 

"Morse," Max breathed, dark blue eyes cracking in the dark, "Going to need a moment." 

"No," Morse's voice was heady now and he pressed a musky kiss to Max's lips, which was lazily returned. Tasting himself gave Max a fresh erotic flutter but not enough to rouse him this soon. 

"You're perfect," Morse murmured, his hips rutting again and his cock once more thrust against the seam of Max's hip. "This is what I want.." 

Max could feel himself flush at that, not sure why, but there was no doubt in Morse's words as he tucked his face against Max's jaw and neck and rocked his hips again. A breathy sound came from him as his leaking prick slicked itself against the seam of Max's body. Morse's hips rolled again and Max, finally regaining movement of his limbs, shifted and lifted his thigh just a tad to give the man something firmer to move against. Morse stuttered as his cock was trapped between them and Max's arm locked him in, tight and close. 

He ground again, stuttering hotly into Max's ear, and the doctor finally turned his head, brushing his cheek against Morse's and murmuring huskily for the second time, "What's got into you, Morse?" 

"Couldn't-" Morse paused to grunt pleasantly as his hips rocked again, this time faster, "-stop thinking about you." His lips brushed needily across Max's cheek, "All week." 

The confession sparked some hungry egotistical part of the doctor that rarely got attention. He couldn't deny a smug satisfaction that he'd vexed Morse or occupied that busy mind of his for any extended period of time. 

"What were you thinking about?" Max questioned, his arms still holding Morse tight as he rocked over and over against him. He could feel his hip hot and slick with Morse's own moisture as the man continued to rock into his weight with a growing tempo. 

"Th-this.." Morse paused to shudder dangerously, dancing on the edge of oblivion, but it seemed to pass and in moments he resumed his intense and needy thrusts. 

"Your smell and taste," Max felt a tongue dance over his skin, "Your arms, hands," Morse slid his own hand down Max's arm, "Your weight, this-" He splayed his hand across Max's stomach and then scratched lightly. 

He was breathing hard now and where Max held him tight they were sticking with sweat. Morse's body began to tremor but he gripped the doctor desperately as he held on as long as he could. 

"Go on, Morse," Max was panting himself now. The feel of the Morse satisfying himself against his own body, to hear him speak of Max as an object of desire, it was more than he could have concocted in his own imagination, "Come for me.." 

Morse made a sound of surprise, as if he weren't expecting to hear what he had, and thrust hard and gave in. He came into the tight press of their bodies and spilled himself over their skin in shuddering waves until, still held tight by Max, Morse slumped bonelessly into the doctor's side. 

Max breathed deep, calmed himself, and finally relaxed. His leg lowered and stretched and his arm loosened around the man now collapsed half on top of him. Max finally closed his eyes to re-secure any measure of sanity he could muster. He couldn't get Morse's husky whispers out of his mind and had to remind himself not to put any stock in it. Things said in the the heat of the moment were hardly promises. 

Morse eventually slipped off of him in the dark and slid out of the bed, silent and suddenly much more reserved, he padded out of the room and Max could make out his lean, nude silhouette against the hall light. When he returned to the bed his skin was freshly chilly and he was bearing a damp cloth to clean them both up with. 

When the were finished, Max finally gathered Morse back into his arms again. The detective seemed to have sobered by his silence but it hadn't shaken him of his need to cling. He tucked his head against Max's shoulder, locked a leg and arm around his body, and yawned. 

"Got it out of your system them?" Max said distantly, finally nearing the edge of sleep once again. It was nice to have someone with him. It was nice to have Morse, more specifically. 

"Tired now," Morse rubbed his nose into Max's skin to satisfy an itch before finally settling to sleep himself, "But no, I don't think so. You're not out of my system." 

Max didn't know what to say. So he said nothing. 

Things said in these moments were hardly promises. 


End file.
